


An unordinary pick-up

by Marro



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alex is so done with jumpscares, Get a grip Susan, I take no responsibility for anything, I've done nothing but writing this today, Longer than I planned, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Prompt Fic, Random prompt, There might be vampires in here idk, This all happened in one day, Trans Male Character, While drinking coffee, so much coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29267577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marro/pseuds/Marro
Summary: The story finds itself around an Uber driver, Alexander, who gets an odd letter sent to his workplace on New Year's Eve with directions to an address where he's supposed to pick something up. Curious, and with nothing better to do, he accepts the task, finding himself in a strange position when a young woman, all dressed in black and ruffles, hands him an almost identical replica of the lucky coin he's been wearing since the day he was born.What started as a grey, bitter holiday, ends with the promise of a new life.This is the outcome of a prompt generator, https://diymfa.com/writer-igniter, that randomized these four elements;Character: Taxi driverSituation: Gets a cryptic letterProp: Lucky pennySetting: Heavy rain





	An unordinary pick-up

Alex thrums his fingers on top of the steering wheel, gaze locked on the blurry traffic light illuminating the insides of his car in red through the pouring rain. It's ridiculous how not every single intersection has been upgraded with motion sensors, certain he's been waiting for the light to change for two full minutes now.   
  
Looking around, the connecting streets are as empty as they can be on New Year's Eve. At least that's what the calendar says it is; it's been raining nonstop for days, and if there's anything that'll ruin the spirit of a white holiday, it's the presence of a dull, gray one.

"Bet you're all enjoying your cozy blankets, champagne, and fireplaces, hm?" he says bitterly and flicks the wiper lever that immediately sets off at a faster pace, swatting fat drops of rain back and forth across the window. "Watching your talk-shows and eating potato gratin with 'too much cheese, darling, you'll get a heart attack!' Pfth. There's no such thing as 'too much cheese', Susan."

Sighing, he lets go of the wheel and drops his head against the neck rest. The loud patter on glass and metal, combined with the hum of the engine, adds a sense of calm Alex remembers from those long car rides as a kid, when his aunt took him camping by the sea. The hours on hours of driving, street lights passing by, each one a physical mark that he's further and further away from home, each one passing making it easier to breathe.

He glances down to the side, to the envelope on the passenger seat, formerly sealed with a nonsensical, silver-painted pattern stamped into black wax that broke with a satisfying snap.

_Who even sends letters anymore?_

Not only was it weird; it was borderline freaky that the letter was addressed to him, sitting on his shelf at the office, and, for some reason, not inside the door of his apartment.

The letter itself didn't make much sense, written in an annoying, flamboyant cursive that'd make his old English teacher ejaculate in his pants, and it took him a full five minutes just translating each squiggly letter, coming out more confused on the other side. 

Except for the attached address, there was a long paragraph about 'fulfilling prophecies from days gone past' and 'bells ringing in a New Era' and 'the Maid shall be praised' and whatever renaissance nonsense a person can find on the internet. There's probably some translator online for this type of thing, because, seriously, who writes like this?

Aaand, if that wasn't enough, he's also now known as the 'Maid of Past times' at the office, which is just great.

He's not even supposed to pick up a person, but an unknown object, that could be anything from a bag of cocaine to a body to dinner take out. It shows how little trust people have for delivery companies nowadays if they send an Uber to fetch something rather than mailing it. Though, FedEx might not accept body bags, but what does he know? They probably have a department for that too, though. 

_Would you put that on the 'comment' section? PS. Needs discreet handling due to delicate circumstances. The body of my dead ex in the bag being the circumstance. Mind the risk of leaking brain substance.'_

But, honestly, Alex doesn't mind. He'd rather transport an object than a person, especially on the late evening of New Year's Eve with all the drunks and bickering couples. Hell, he'd even so that body bag delivery if it means the car is nice and quiet, and he doesn't have to clean vomit off the seats.

After a lifetime and a half, the lights turn green, and Alex continues toward the destination, glancing at the bright GPS screen from time to time. It's leading him to the harbor, which means he's obviously picking up some dude drowned by the mafia, and he pulls the car over near the seafood - oh, no, it's an Italian restaurant now - that stands empty and dark near the jetty. 

"Well." He squints through the heavy rain, spotting nothing but benches and empty flower urns and rocking boats. "Now what?"

A few minutes pass before he steps out, pulling the collar of his leather jacket close around his neck as he hurries to the back of the car. From the trunk, he grabs the umbrella and pops it open. His brown, taper cut hair already sticks to his scalp by the time he's protected from the rain, and he makes a desperate attempt of combing it back into somewhat of a presentable look with his fingers. _This better be an important corpse to deliver. Maybe it's the princess or something? Oh, man, that's a possible HR nightmare to deal with._

He closes the trunk with a thud and turns to start searching the nearest area for anyone, but when he peers under the umbrella, he stares into a pair of intensely blue eyes that has no business shining so brightly in this weather.

"Fuck!" he yelps and stumbles backward, catching himself on the trunk, but not without slamming his bad knee against the bumper. He clenches his jaw around the explosion of pain that waters his eyes, keeps the rigmarole of unholy expressions to himself, and holds onto the car as he breathes it through. As much as he hates spending holidays alone, holed up in his apartment, this is not an improvement.

"Ooh, oh my, my apologies, I didn't mean to startle you," a meek, female voice says, which brings Alex's attention back to the person being the cause of this. "A - are you alright?"

"Fine, just fine." Alex inhales slowly and attempts to ignore the throbbing in his knee as he pushes himself up straight and angles the umbrella, to take a look at the young woman; she's wearing a fitted dark coat with a ruffled, high collar and cuffs that reaches her ankles, where equally as dark boots are sticking out from. Blond, neat curls frame her slender, pale face like those hard, twirly candies you cut your cheeks on while eating - because, seriously, who's got time sucking on them? You crunch, or you bleed out trying - and spills down her shoulders, with the rest of her hair is pulled up in a regal-looking bun, decorated with red roses and golden hair-needles shimmering in the faint light reaching in underneath her black, lace umbrella. A hard, square purse hangs over her arm, also black with golden rivets punched along the edges, with a collection of charms hanging around the handle; shapes of half-moons and suns and stars.

Alex had no idea Gothic Lolitas was still a thing, but, hey, it's good to see that age isn't a hindrance for everyone to keep expressing their style.

"Are you the one calling for a pick-up?"

"I - I - yes, that is correct, though, um, I think there might've been a mistake...?" She wrings her hands around the handle and glances around, as if he's looking for someone, then shows a hesitant smile.

Alex frowns. "Err, okay?" He jabs a thumb at the car. "I got some letter asking me to come here by name?"

The woman blinks, brightly red lips parting in a soft 'oh'. "I see. Um. Could you please show me?"

Fighting the urge to rolls his eyes, Alex limps over to the passenger side and pulls the letter out, handing it to her. She reads it through, eyes moving between the paper and Alex, then folds it and gives it back.

"W - well, it seems to be the correct letter. And, um, that's your name?" She points at the letters on the envelope, spelling out 'Miss Tsoi', followed by Alex's workplace address.

"Yes? Or, well," Alex shrugs, "I assumed the 'Miss' part was a mistake, nothing new, but I'm the only one with that name in my office, so yeah, that's me alright."

"I see. Um, one second."

She opens her purse and picks out a small object, presenting it to Alex in her open palm. "Does this mean anything to you?"

Alex's eyes widen at the sight of the silver coin; the side up shows a lily flower, encircled by letters spelling out 'She, who wields compassion, will light her darkness' along a few roman letters. Subconsciously, he places his hand on his chest, on top of the lucky coin hanging around his neck.

"It... It looks like mine," he says and pulls the coin out from under his hoodie in the leather string, struggling to get it over his head before holding it out in his palm beside the woman's hand. It's also in silver with the image of a lily, but his is closed, the words around it reading 'With grace and time, she will rise'. He was given the coin at birth by some distant relative who died years back, when Alex was still a child, and kept it on him since then because, why not? It was supposed to give him luck, though, with everything he's gone through, he's not convinced it actually makes a difference. Still, he keeps carrying it around his neck, day and night.

"So, it _is_ you," she says, still seemingly confused, but she smiles a little when Alex meets her gaze. "It still doesn't make sense, but, here," she puts the coin next to Alex's in his palm. "Take this, and bring it to this location," she pulls a note from her pocket and puts it over the coins, "and I'm sure everything will be sorted out."

Alex's eyebrows furrow as he reads the address on the note, which points him to the other side of town, then moves it aside to look at the coins. There's no question they belong together, but where the hell did she come across it? And how did she know he's got the other coin? What dark academia shit is this?

"Uh, I'm sorry, but I'm kinda lost here. How did you - "

He jerks once he sees that she's gone. He spins around but doesn't spot her anywhere, leaving him with nothing but two coins, an address, and a thousand questions. 

"... Alright." He puts the coins in his pocket and rereads the address before getting back into the car, grabbing the small towel from the glove compartment to run over his hair, squeezing as much water out of it as he can before starting the engine. He puts the address into the GPS and stares at it. Forty minutes of driving out of the city to a parking lot by a beach. Well, if this doesn't stink problem, then nothing does.

The coins feel heavy inside his pocket, and the curiosity is too great for him to not turn the car around and set course through the city, passing its flashing commercial signs and lit-up shop windows, out to the highway and then off it, finding himself on a pitch-black country road with zero street lights that's, hopefully, leading him to the beach.

It's nothing but a miracle that he makes it all the way there without ending up in a ditch or hitting some animal, and despite the eerily, empty darkness, he doesn't feel as nervous as he should. 

As he waits for, well, something, the rain eases to a soft drizzle, then stops altogether. Cautiously, Alex leaves the car and tries to make out the surroundings; the parking lot is small, with spots for maximum ten cars, all empty. He barely makes out the path leading down to what sounds like water, only then realizing how quiet it is. No honking cars, no city buzz, no zizzing, neon signs, no yelling. Just the distant sound of waves lapping the beach and a soft wind rustling the naked branches around the parking.

Making sure the GPS tracker is active on his phone, in case he does end up dead, he leaves the car and uses the flashlight to guide his way towards the water. _What a perfect place for a murder. Or getting murdered. Well, couldn't be any worse than visiting mom on Christmas. Maybe I can ask them to make it quick and painless._

With watchful steps, Alex follows a meandering path through the sparse forest, focusing on his feet until a cold, salty breeze catches his attention. He takes another two steps, and stale, wet sand crunches underneath his high-shafted boots, throwing him back some twenty years ago when he visited Greenridge Beach with his aunt, spending hours with his nose down the sand searching for seashells.

He can't help but close his eyes in inhale the scent, feel it soothe down his chest, opening them again with a soft smile. How long has it been since he last visited the sea?

Across the large body of black water, the city's lights reach for the murky sky, distant and dim, like watching the earth from an airplane. To the side, the sea stretches out into nothingness, the horizon indistinguishable in the darkness, until a ray of light breaks through the dense veil of clouds.

Alex's breath catches in his throat when the sky clears, as if someone flipped a switch, and the moon, despite being barely half-full, illuminates the beach and the sea in soft, white light. Stars soon join it as the clouds keep breaking up, clearing the way for a night sky that's simultaneously pitch black and blindingly bright.

"Damn," he exhales, searching for constellations his aunt pointed out to him for what might be a minute or hour, lost in old memories when a voice speaks up beside him.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

With a surprised cry and nothing to catch him this time, Alex stumbles to the ground with flailing arms and crawls a good meter in the sand before catching his senses, wild eyes staring at the figure standing near where he just stood, hands reaching out in what's best described as an 'oh shit, I'm sorry' gesture. Alex spots a pale face with long, blond hair draped down its sides and dark clothing in his hazed shock.

"Fuck, what's wrong with you people?!"

"Gosh, I'm so, so sorry!" this time, a man, says. "I didn't mean to startle you!"

"W - well, don't walk up to people like that," Alex sputters and sits up, rubbing his wrist that took most of the fall. "Fuck me, that shit's terrifying."

"I apologize, I'm not used to, uh, oh well, I'm sorry." 

Where he was silent a second ago, the man's footsteps now crunches as he approaches and leans down, holding a hand out. "Let's get you up from there, shall we?"

The man looks to be somewhere around Alex's age, at mid-thirties, sharing similar facial traits with the woman he met, which sends Alex wondering if they're related or enhances their cheekbones with the same brand of makeup. Those blue, piercing eyes, though, they are the same, taking on a silvery tone from the moonlight. They look surprised as they wander across Alex's face, then content, or happy. 

"... Right." Alex holds his hand out and allows the man to assist him back on his feet, and takes a moment to brush sand off his pants. "Aw, shit, my phone - "

"Here." The man holds said phone out. "You dropped it at my feet."

"Oh. Uh, thanks." Taking the phone and shoving it into his jacket, Alex takes a step back to get a real good look at the guy. There's something oddly familiar about him, but Alex knows for sure he's never seen him before. "So, you wanna tell me what I'm doing out here?"

"Well," the man clasps his hands in front of his body. "I believe you've met my daughter before coming here?"

"The lolita girl? Yeah, I met her. She gave me a coin."

The man's slender eyebrows furrow. "The lolita...? Um, anyhow, yes, then you've met her. Would you mind showing me the coins?"

Hesitantly, Alex produces both of them in his palm. The man steps forward, flashing a soft smile before inspecting the coins. His eyes flick between them and Alex's face, searching for something, then hums.

"Well, it does appear to be the correct coin," he concludes, but the wrinkles between his eyes say otherwise. "Though, I believe this was given to a, hm," he shows an apologetic smile. "Young girl. Now it makes sense that I haven't been able to get a hold of you through other means."

Alex stares at him as cold unease creeps up his spine. "What...? Wait, how do you know about the coin?"

"That's simple; I was the one giving it."

"You...? Wait, hold on a second, I was told you, uh, died? Like, years and years ago?"

"I did."

"You wh - ... You...?" He barks an empty laugh. "This is a joke, right? Is this some sick payback for that time I stole a slice of Yosuf's pizza? Look, I'm sorry about that, but this is - "

"It's no joke."

Alex stills. "Then what the fuck is going on?"

"I know you've been struggling a lot, and that life hasn't been fair to you," the man speaks with remorse, gently touching the side of Alex's arm. "And that you have gone through much pain, in more ways than I anticipated. I'm simply here to show myself and the option for you to choose an alternate life."

This somehow makes less sense, and Alex can't decide if he's about to get killed or blessed, and he'd do good in running back to the car, but curiosity anchors him to the ground. "What 'different life'?"

The man's smile is strangely warm in contrast to his pale skin, and it sparks something in Alex's chest. "A life where you don't have to feel ashamed about your true self," he places the coins on top of each other, then covers them with his hand, heat radiating into Alex's palm, "as I see now that you've been battling wars far more dangerous and painful than I anticipated, though, blooming into a more beautiful person than I imagined."

Alex can't even start to form words as he doesn't know which question to start with, adding a burst of fluster at the compliment doesn't help sort his brain out at all, and the man continues before he gets a chance to speak, "Our time is brief, my dear. Just know that, if you are ready, _when_ you are ready, I'll be there, waiting to show you a world where you can be exactly who you want to be. Where you can visit the sea and watch the stars as often as you wish."

With that, he places Alex's hands on top of each other and bows down, kissing the back of the top one, then steps back. Alex eyes couldn't get any wider as he stares at the man, his chest swelling with a wave of warmth he can't remember having felt in years, a sudden urge to not only learn everything about what is going on, but to feel another warm touch, be it a hug or a slap.

The stranger, who he knows for certain isn't a stranger, rather someone Alex's known, or should know, smiles affectionately and bows his head. "See you soon, Alexander."

"W - wait! Don't - !"

There's a flash of light, quickly followed by a shockwave that sends Alex flying back into the sand, and when he opens his eyes, he's forced to squint at aggressive, white brightness.

Shrill beeps and distant voices reach his ears as he tries to adjust, slowly becoming aware of his body and how each molecule of it aches. _What the fuck just -_

"Alex! Thank fuck, you're awake!" a distraught voice breaks through the buzz, and Alex meets Yosuf's wide eyes. "Holy hell, man, I don't know how you survived that, but damn if I glad to see your ugly face again."

Alex chuckles politely, then groans at the pangs of pain in his chest. His eyes wander the room, its white walls, and plastic chairs and monitors. "Wanna, ugh, fuck... Tell me what happened?"

"You got hit, that's what happened! Some drunk flew out in the intersection and hit you in the side, they had to cut the car up to get you out."

"... Damn."

_So... This was all a coma dream?_

Testing his limbs, he lifts his left arm, only to find it in a brightly green cast, the other one being more functional, though his shoulder feels like its been ripped out and popped back a hundred times. He pats his chest, frowning as the coin isn't there. 

"You got my necklace?"

"Uh, yeah, one sec." 

Yosuf gets up from the chair and rummages through what looks like Alex's clothes on a table, then returns with the leather string, the coin dangling back and forth from it, and Alex releases a breath he didn't notice holding. Yosuf gently drops it into his palm.

Disappointment sparks inside Alex's chest as he hugs the coin in his hand, the fact that this was all just something his brain made up in the cause of head trauma. Hell, he didn't even get the odd guy's name, and still, the same warmth spreads inside him as he brings up the image of his face and those intense, blue eyes. Says a lot about his state of life when the loss of a dream makes his eyes sting, doesn't it? How pathetic. _Oh, well._

"Hey, you... You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's uh..."

If it's to humor himself or twist the dagger further, Alex can't tell, but he holds the coin up to his face, and there it is, the closed lily, laughing at his desires of a free life. He turns it, expecting to find the same image, only to have his heart do a double-take; it's the face of the coin the lolita girl gave him; the same lily with its petals open, surrounded with the same lines of text - 

Alex blinks and holds the coin closer, almost dropping in on his face as he squints, turning it again to read the words he's known by heart for his entire life, only to find them differing.

_'With grace and time, he will rise'_

He flips the coin back over.

_'And he, who wields compassion, will light his darkness'_

Despite the tight pain clutching his chest, Alex laughs, relieved and amazed and confused. Ignoring Yosuf's questions, he looks out the window across the room, meeting the sunny morning, the first of the year.

_Alright, mystery man._

_I'm ready._


End file.
